


Know When to Fold 'Em

by Keith_Wilde



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Canon Typical Swearing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, f bombs and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27362878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keith_Wilde/pseuds/Keith_Wilde
Summary: Over a late-night summer card game, the Milkoviches discuss their new domesticity.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 5
Kudos: 123





	Know When to Fold 'Em

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lil' one shot of Mickey and Sandy bein' bros and having feelings. I wrote this like, several months ago and it's just been sitting in my docs wanting to be cleaned up, and my WIP for another fandom is super niche and emotionally taxing, so I thought I'd send this out into the world for the hell of it. Because this fandom is seriously one of the best <3

It was late. It was hot. The windows were all open, and fans wheezed from where they were clustered around every outlet. Mickey was smoking, of course, in the yellow light of the eerily quiet kitchen. It was just him and Sandy left up, a deck of cards and an ashtray on the table between them. 

“You gonna cut the deck or not?” Mickey asked. 

“Jesus, give me a second,” Sandy said between puffs.

“Last hand. I got someone waitin’ for me to come to bed, y’know.” 

“Calm down, Mickey. We’ve all got Gallaghers waiting for us upstairs.”

“So hurry the fuck up so I can deal.”

Mickey was sitting next to a pile of quarters and beer bottle caps. The Gallaghers (and Milkoviches, and Gallagher-Milkoviches) had passed the July night at the table drinking and playing Scat, the family’s card game of choice. One by one they’d wandered to bed as they’d been eliminated or needed to get their kids to sleep. Finally, it had gotten down to just Mickey, Ian and Sandy. Ian would’ve won, too, if Sandy wouldn’t have gotten a trio of lucky cards right off the deal. He’d grumbled  _ bullshit  _ as he’d gotten up, kissing the top of Mickey’s head.  _ I’ll be in bed,  _ he’d whispered in Mick’s ear.  _ Might still be awake if you don’t take too long.  _

So they were playing the last hand. They were both out of quarters, playing on their honor, and the winner of this round would take the whole pot. Sandy cut the deck. Mickey dealt. He laid the top card down--9 of hearts. Fuck. He didn’t have a single heart in his hand, just a seven and two black threes. He could do fuck all with that.

“So how’s married life, cuz’?” Sandy asked, peering over her cards. “Now that your old man isn’t around.” 

“Shut up. I’m trying to play.”

“So play. You’re the one holding things up, not me.”

Mickey drew. Eight of spades. Not ideal, but he could work with it. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Sandy said.

“Yeah, because I know you’re just trying to distract me.” 

“We’re playing for quarters. That means laundry. That means bus fares, vending machines. Girl’s gotta eat.” 

“Go. It's your turn.” 

Sandy drew a card, scrutinized her hand, put down a two of clubs. She was trying to collect diamonds, Mickey knew; he’d been paying attention. The quick math and quiet observation involved made him the one to beat in every game of cards they played.

“Things with Debbie are going well, not that you’d care,” Sandy said.

“Oh yeah? You gonna be Franny’s step-mommy now?”

“Figure she’s been playing house with one Milkovich, why not make it two?”

“Hmph.”

It was no secret that Mickey loved being an uncle, but he preferred to pretend like it was. He didn’t need anyone thinking he’d gone soft since getting out of prison. Even if he had.

Mickey drew another card. King of diamonds. Fuck, now he could break up his hand or give Sandy a card he knew she needed. He was royally screwed. 

“It’s going well, since you asked,” Mickey said quietly as Sandy debated her next move. “The marriage thing. Its kinda nice, havin’ one stable fuckin’ thing in my life.” 

“A stable source of dick, you mean?”

Mickey flipped her off lightly and lit another cigarette. 

“Yeah, well,” he said, “It’s all a lot different from home, that’s for goddamn sure.”

“That’s not exactly a high bar.”

“People actually give a shit about each other in this house. It's bizarre.” 

“I know. The other day I went out to get a 40 and when I came back, Debbie asked me  _ where I’d been.  _ First thing I asked was who wants to know?” 

Mickey chuckled and drew yet  _ another  _ shit card. You’d think the deck was stacked against him.

“And they all celebrate each other’s birthdays and shit?” He said. “Did you even know when your brother’s birthdays were?” 

“Hell no. I don’t know when your birthday is.”

“Sometimes  _ I  _ don’t even remember when my birthday is.” 

“Bet Ian does.” 

“Very funny,” Mickey said. It was true, though. Ian remembered shit. He made them breakfast. He knew what Mickey liked and didn’t like, rented movies that he thought Mickey’d enjoy, texted him when he wasn’t around. They were small things. But they were things that nobody had ever done for Mickey, romantically or not. That’s what had made them family, long before they’d added the rings. Course, the rings were pretty nice, too. They were there like little metal anchors, making sure all that good stuff didn’t slip through his inked-up fingers. 

And all that stuff was waiting for him, just on the other side of the staircase, just on the other side of this game. 

Mickey rapped his knuckles on the table’s plastic surface.

“I knock.” 

Sandy took her one last turn and placed her cards face up.

“Thirty.” 

“Shit,” Mickey said. Even after going around and around, Mickey was still stuck with a measly twenty-two. 

“What the fuck?” Sandy asked. “Why’d you end the game? You had to know you didn’t have it.”

“Maybe I was holdin’ onto hope.” 

“Yeah, or maybe you just miss your man.”

“Maybe I just lack the energy to kick your ass tonight.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be lacking in energy fifteen minutes from now when I have to listen to you through the wall.”

“Night, Sandy.”   
  


“Uh, you know you lose, right?” she called after him. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said, glancing back over his shoulder from halfway up the steps. “Sure I do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading as always!


End file.
